Authors: Luke Rhinehart
`That's one incredible woman,' he said to Neil.
`Yes,' said Neil.
Ìf I don't achieve anything else in the rest of my life except see to it that she's taken care of, I think I'd be satisfied.'
Neil looked into Frank's intent, confiding face and felt a distant stab of fear.
`She . . . She's a fine woman,' he said.
Ì hate to see her martyring herself,' Frank went on. 'She's working much too hard.'
`Maybe it's better for her now than thinking,' Neil commented.
`Maybe,' Frank said and took a deep breath. 'Jesus, what a world. Just when things were beginning to look good we get three breathing corpses.'
Ì know what you mean.'
`You think it'll ever end?'
Neil looked at Frank's now less intent, somewhat distracted face and, without thinking, answered simply: 'No.' And he went to bed.
At dawn the next day Sam came up from his cabin to report that his wife and daughter were dead. He announced his news to Neil apologetically, as if announcing that he'd broken someone's tea cup. He and Neil discussed their deaths briefly and concluded that they should be immediately buried at sea. Land was visible four miles to the south and Neil was worried about both pirates and Bahamian government boats. By six-thirty everyone except Jim and Katya, who were in their berths after an early morning at the helm, had finished a spare breakfast and was ready for the burial. Jeanne, concerned about the effect on Skippy of seeing bodies tossed casually into the ocean, asked Lisa to keep him occupied in the forepeak.
The adults gathered self-consciously in the cockpit outside Frank's cabin and looked morosely at the covered bodies of the women, which lay the length of the cockpit seat. Jeanne had wrapped them together in a clean sheet and Neil had weighted the bodies with an old dinghy anchor. He'd tied it and the sheet to the body with light twine. Sam Brumberger was Jewish but his wife was not, and he had told them he had no strong feelings about how she should be buried, only that he wanted to speak publicly over them before they were committed to the sea.
As he watched and listened, Neil was struck by the grotesqueness of this funeral. Everyone, including Sam, was dressed in bathing suits or cut-offs or jeans, and was either bare-chested or wearing a tee-shirt. Vagabond was sailing forward under cloudless blue skies, through sparkling blue water. Only an unpleasant odour - from either the bodies or
Frank's cabin - and everyone's increasing thinness reminded him of death. Sam spoke again with that almost painful objectivity that his own death seemed to give him of the troubles he and his wife and daughter had had, her weaknesses, his, as if they were traditional parts of a eulogy. He was like an historian summing up a doomed civilization. Sam seemed to be not just burying his wife, but himself also. He was summing up before the Lord his being, offering it without apologies.
`Human beings don't plan to die,' he was saying. 'They get picked, incredulous and protesting, and leave the stage like a vaudeville performer getting the hook. In some ways Ingrid and I've been lucky: we got to say our goodbyes, sing our final song, and walk off the stage under our own power, knowing precisely where we were going.
`So, Lord, we commit Ingrid's body to the sea. I thank you for her life. I thank you for her death.'
At first when Sam ceased speaking, Neil was uncertain that indeed he was finished. Then he nodded at Frank, and Neil joined Frank in lifting the linked bodies up, first to the edge of the coaming, and then, with a quick thrust, into the sea. Sam had stood with lowered head during this act and he did not raise it to watch the bodies swirl aft, slowly sinking. Jeanne came up and gently embraced him, held him for five or six seconds, and then wordlessly went back into the wheelhouse. Neil, surprised at his mild revulsion at seeing Jeanne hugging the dying man, then went up and put his hand on Sam's shoulder.
`That was fine, Sam,' he said, feeling awkwardly that he sounded as if Sam had just done a good job hauling anchor.
The others, too, after saying a brief word to Sam, moved into the central part of the boat. It was Neil who, turning back to adjust the mainsheet, saw Sam Brumberger climbing up out of the cockpit. Neil saw him, one leg already over, straddling Vagabond's coaming, moving clumsily and weakly,
knew what he was doing, knew he could stop him, but didn't. As he watched, Sam pulled his other leg up on to the coaming, looked down into the water rushing past, then pushed himself off into the sea.
`HEY!' Frank shouted from behind Neil, and then rushed past into the cockpit. Sam's head bobbed up briefly in the wake of Vagabond's starboard hull, then disappeared. Frank stared aft.
When Neil turned into the wheelhouse, he saw Captain 0lly steering Vagabond as if nothing had happened.
`Good man, Sam,' Captain Olly said, staring forward. `-Got himself a good death, too.'
For Neil, Olly's wisdom made only the smallest dent in the horror. The low smudge of land lying on the horizon dead ahead grew slowly towards them through the hot, still morning. They had listened at eight to news of destruction and starvation throughout the world that made their recent deaths and present rationing seem insignificant, yet Neil sensed his ship approached this land reluctantly, with more fear than hope. They'd had no rain and foresaw none through the next day anyway and Neil felt they had to try to duck into an outer cay for water if an opportunity arose. Jim was reading a Guide to the Bahamas trying to determine which islands had fresh water and which didn't, but the writers of the Guide had never anticipated anyone's wanting to get water on uninhabited islands when it was available at any port. Neil doubted that any of the small islands would have springs or wells. Any hope they'd had earlier ofsailing into Hopetown or Marsh Harbour for supplies had been dashed by the government edict that all foreign vessels had to clear Customs and be -disarmed in Nassau or Freeport. At eleven that morning they observed a small plane flying south. Its circling low around Vagabond had made Neil uneasy, and he called everyone together to discuss tactics for repelling pirate attacks. They had only three weapons, the nine-millimetre pistol with four dozen bullets, Macklin's .45 with two dozen bullets, and the .38 revolver with two bullets. They were 'short on artillery', as 01ly had described it. They decided their flare gun could appear to be a fourth weapon. They talked about the possible ways they might be attacked, and Neil assigned them to various defensive positions with standing orders on how to respond in various contingencies.
By one o'clock they were only about half a mile off from
where the surf was breaking against the outer reef: They were sailing south-southeast along this barrier, low islands being visible across the emerald lagoon beyond the reef. When they came within clear sight of an abandoned lighthouse Neil was able to verify their landfall: they were off Man-of-War Cay. The next opening in the reef was six miles down, into Marsh Harbour, the most populated town on Great Abaco Island. Neil knew that it was desirable to land for food and water, but before he decided on whether to try to sneak in for supplies, or sail to Nassau, or bypass the Bahamas completely, he hoped to be able to talk to someone on one of the local boats.
An hour later the gloom which had accompanied the first hours of their fresh contact with land deepened when they sailed past the buoyed channel leading into Marsh Harbour. They could see the town and a few boats anchored in the cove and at the dock. They sailed past. They were outcasts.
After another mile Neil ordered Jeanne to bring the ship about to head offshore to avoid the reef. As soon as they had tacked he noticed a launch speeding towards them from the Marsh Harbour Inlet. Neil ordered them to take their prearranged defensive positions: Jeanne, Lisa and Skippy below amidships with smoke flares; Neil standing in the aft cabin hatchway holding Macklin's .45; Frank in the forepeak hatch with the .38 revolver; Jim in the starboard cabin hatchway with the Navy nine-millimetre pistol; and Tony in the port cabin hatchway with the flare gun. Captain Olly was with Katya at the helm. They all kept their meagre weapons momentarily out of sight, their intent being to create the illusion of having four heavily armed men on guard at four widely separated points. Neil, standing on the second step of his aft cabin, with his head and shoulders sticking out above the cabin opening, clutching the .45 in his right hand, watched the launch speed up to them from the left. It had a machinegun mounted on the foredeck, manned by two black men. As the launch slowed, he saw in the cockpit two additional black men, one studying Vagabond through binoculars. When the launch swung up behind them Neil saw the second man in the cockpit, who was wearing white shorts and shirt in contrast to the khakis and jeans of the others, smile a big, white-toothed smile at Vagabond. Neil had the momentary absurd idea that he was about to shout 'Welcome to the Bahamas!'
Instead the launch pulled up parallel to Vagabond, holding off about thirty feet. For perhaps fifteen seconds the men on the two ships contemplated each other, their two vessels slicing serenely through the water side by side at five knots. Captain Olly broke the silence.
`Hi, there, fellas,' he shouted amiably. 'How they hanging?'
As far as Neil could tell the launch was manned only by the four black men already visible, all of whom looked back at Captain Olly blankly.
`We need some food and water,' Captain Olly went on. `You fellas know where we can get some?'
`Where you headed, Mahn?' the officer whom Neil had seen grinning shouted back.
`Puerto Rico,' Captain Olly replied. 'Where you fellas headed?'
`You have permit for Bahamian waters?' the officer asked. `Shit, no,' Captain Olly replied. 'We're heading Puerto Rico.'
`No weapons permitted in Bahamian waters,' the officer shouted. 'You have weapons aboard?'
`No weapons,' Captain Olly replied, heading Vagabond into the wind and slowing her up some.
`We will board you then for routine inspection,' said the officer, grinning.
`You try to board us,' Captain Oily replied in the same
easy-going tone, 'and we'll blast you all to kingdom come.'
The white-toothed smile disappeared from the man's face.
`We ain't got no weapons,' Captain Olly shouted as the two
vessels continued slicing through the water side by side. 'So you don't got to inspect us.'
0lly grinned. "Course if you do try to board us we'll have to sink all four of you fellas.'
The officer turned to the shorter man at his side and they whispered together urgently. The two men at the machine-gun were staring back looking for orders.
`What you have to pay for watah, Mahn?' the officer shouted.
`Got a good Johnson outboard,' Captain Olly replied. 'Got some cigarettes.'
`You have gold? Silver? Jewellery?'
`Maybe,' said Captain 0lly. 'You selling water?'
`We sell you fifteen, gallons of watah,' the officer replied. `You pay in gold, silver, or diamonds.'
`Can't we sail in to one of these here little islands and get some water?'
`Not without permit,' the officer replied, grinning. Tor permit you must go to Nassau and surrender all weapons.'
`Need a permit for water, huh?' said Captain 0lly. 'Seems a little shitty to me.'
`You have gold? Silver?'
Olly frowned and looked aft at Neil who shook his head slightly in the negative.
`Not a drop, sonny,' Captain Olly said. 'Got some fancy clothes, though, you fellas might like. You like fancy clothes? Also got a bottle of whisky.'
Ì think maybe we trade, right, Mahn?' the tall officer said and flashed his smile.
`Right, sonny, but you tell those two fellas with the peashooter to point it forward, okay?
I get indigestion staring at the open end of a barrel.'
After the two men manning the gun moved aft, the two ships eased in closer to each other, Captain 0lly bringing Vagabond up into the wind so that the two boats could tie up to each other. He instructed Jeanne to come up and help Katya prepare the fenders, the four other men maintaining their defensive positions. When the two ships were secured, Olly went down into Frank's cabin and brought back up two of his dress suits while Jeanne brought two packs of cigarettes and a half-full whisky bottle from the main cabin. After the goods were spread out on the cockpit seat, negotiations began. The launch crew had brought up on their deck five three-gallon containers of water. While the grinning officer came aboard to finger the material of Frank's suits and hold them up to his body to check size, Captain Oily dipped a finger into each of the water jugs to see that they were fresh and potable. They all tasted heavily chlorinated but drinkable. Olly grimaced each time he sampled the water.
`Worst water I ever tasted, sonny,' he said to the Bahamian officer. 'This horse piss or what?'
The black man just grinned.
`Two suits, whisky and cigarettes for nine gallons watah,' he said.
`No sale,' Captain 01ly replied. 'I'll give you that blue suit there for all fifteen gallons, including the jugs.'
The black officer laughed and slapped his bare brown thigh below his clean white shorts.
`You crazy, Mahn,' he said, glancing at Katya with a grin. `Watch is gold. This suit's just pretty shit. No way it's gold.'
`Take it or leave it, fella. We got to get on to Puerto Rico.'
The black man glared. sell you good watah, Mahn. You pay me whisky, cigarettes, and suits. You want me to arrest you?'
`Now, now, fella,' said Captain 01ly, his wrinkled face breaking into its toothless grin. 'I got an army of sharpshooters in all four cabins. Unless that there peashooter can shoot in four directions at once you ain't arresting nobody, least not on this boat.'
The black man still glared, puffing out his chest and
breathing heavily. The other three men looked on from the cockpit indifferently. The officer's eyes abruptly narrowed and he scrutinized Captain 0lly carefully. Ì sell you fifteen gallons without the jugs, for this blue suit, the whisky, and the cigarettes.'
`With the jugs.'